


Little Soldier Girl; Taken From Home

by Splat_Dragon



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Avatar, F/M, Ocmc, Retired Hero Comes Back, Slow Updates, what is tagging?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 18:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: Little soldier girlTaken from homeForced to fight a warThat's not her own





	Little Soldier Girl; Taken From Home

She hummed under her breath as she worked, some tuneless song she had learned as a child and had long forgotten the lyrics to. Her hands cupped the air, a clod of dirt leaving a clay bucket near her to compact into a bowl, hovering at eye level. With little more than a careful, practiced flick of her hand it floated through the air, dipping into a barrel of oats. She didn't look, but it filled up just-so, a so-so motion of her hand evening it out. And then a tilt of her flattened palm dumped some out, before evening it out again. 

Seeming satisfied once it was an inch from the rim of the bowl, the black-haired woman began to walk down the aisle between the stalls, the barn filled with the crunching of animals eating their dinners. The bowl floated in the air beside her as she reached in to stroke the beak of an ostrich horse, to pat the muzzle of a dragon moose, and to look into the stall of a moo-sow and her piglets.

Stopping at the stall that held a dozing buffalo yak, she flicked her hand upwards, and the bowl obeyed, drifting upwards before tipping over, dumping the oats into her feeding trough. The clatter woke the animal, who bleated before beginning to eat—the woman reached forward to run her fingers through her fur, plucking some straw out before withdrawing them, turning at the waist to twist her wrist, a stream of water following the movements of her hand to coil into her water trough. The buffalo yak bleated again, abandoning her oats to drink from her refilled water.

The woman gave her a final pat to the head before backing away, floating the dirt bowl back over the clay bucket before clenching her hand into a fist, crumbling it back into formless, endless possibility, waiting to be molded into whatever she needed it to be.

Bidding all the animals a good night, she locked up the barn, stepping out into the biting cold. Her boots remained easily on top of it, and every day she was grateful for them—a birthday gift that she used every day. Combined with her fur lined coat, life was  _ wonderful _ . Simple, sure, and relatively monotonous, but she was enjoying her retirement. She'd never thought she would be one for a life of homesteading, of animal husbandry and rearing, but she'd never been one for being right about… well, anything really. But her life so far had been chaos and fighting and bloodshed, had trained for it since she was a child and had been discovered to be more than just your run-of-the-mill waterbender, so she'd never thought she'd enjoy spending her days grooming animals, milking moo-sow and tanning hides. Had, honestly, not thought she'd live long, had expected to die in battle.

Yet here she was.

  
  


As she walked back to her tent, a figure materialized out of the dark. Blue-grey-green, the canine trotted up to her with an easy grin, glowing blue eyes gleaming in the dark. She grinned, offering a lilting "Hello, Blue." Blue wagged his tail, butting his head against her leg: she scratched behind his ears, the spirit wolf heeling and walking so his side brushed against her calf. A pair of pups, one a lighter shade of brown than the other, tumbled from the dark, nearly knocking into the woman's leg. Blue surged forward with a snarl, sending them squealing with a nip to their haunches, and the woman hummed "It's alright Blue, they're just playing,"

He huffed, seeming to say  _ 'That's no excuse,'  _ licking her hand before trotting off to put the overtired spirit pups to bed as they sulked, the pup with the cream belly and green eyes leaning over to nip at the flower growing from his sister's ear. Blue grunted, and they tumbled after him as they followed their adopted father into the dark.

The woman snorted a laugh, pulling aside the flap to her tent and ducking inside as she shucked her coat, the fire kept constantly burning instantly leaving her warm. A yawn splat her jaw, and she ran her fingers through short black hair in lieu of brushing it, taking a moment to change into old clothing repurposed into pajamas. Face washed, a wet rag dragged along her skin to clean off the grime from working with animals all day, she laid down on top of her furs, tossing some wood onto the fire to keep it burning through the night.

Paws crunched on snow, and a wet black nose peeked through the tent flap. A huff announced Blue's presence, and the wolf spirit lolled his tongue. He slunk through the tent, careful not to knock into her few possessions, before laying down against her side with a world weary sigh, feeling her throw an army over him. His tail thumped against her legs, and the pair of them fell asleep together. 

  
  
  


_ She was burning, and yet a deep chill had set into her bones. She couldn't feel her fingers—the woman dropped down into a battle ready stance, attempting to draw up the water that she stood in, but it refused to obey. Attempted to move the fog that filled the air around her, as thick as syrup as though cast to be a master team of waterbenders, obscuring even her nose in front of her face. But it, too, refused to obey. And when she attempted to flick even the smallest flame to life in the palm of her hand, there wasn't even the smallest flicker of warmth, not even a hint of heat in her veins.  _

**"YOUR ABILITIES WILL NOT WORK HERE, AVATAR."**

_ The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, impossibly deep and rattling her bones. She gasped, and whirled, reaching for the knifes in her boots—she was still in her pajamas, but she slept with one in each boot and under her pillow. _

_ Neither one was there.  _

_ The woman circled, seeking the source of the voice: there! Was that it? The flicker of a shadow in the corner of her eye? But it was gone almost immediately, and when she turned she caught something glowing hot and red, but that, too, was gone before she could turn. _

**"YOU CANNOT SEE ME, AVATAR."**

_ She bared her teeth, willing her bending to come back to her. "Who are you?" she hissed, coiling herself like a snake preparing to strike, "what do you want with me?"  _

**"MY WORLD IS IN DANGER. THE ONE WHO WAS MEANT TO SAVE IT WAS NEVER BORN." **

Another chosen one, then? But what had this to do with her? And so she voiced that.

And for a moment, she saw something moving in the fog. She realized immediately why she hadn't been able to see it, and her heart leapt into her throat: it was large, so massive it was all around her. The darkness of the fog, she realized, was the shadow cast by its body; looking upwards, the fog was a lighter grey in color.

**"YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SAVE MY WORLD NOW."**

And that was  _ bullshit _ , and she wasn't afraid to tell him so. A barked laugh, and she said "Me? I've already paid my dues, paid for being born. I'm retired, sorry but I'm not helping you."

But the voice didn't reply. The fog lightened abruptly in color, matching the sky, and she realized suddenly he (for the voice was definitely masculine) was gone. "Hey!" she barked, but the fog was already flowing away, and the world going black, a grogginess overtaking her, "Come back here!" she began to sink to the ground, thumping hard on her ass, "I… I said n-no." but she was fighting a losing battle, and then she was gone. 

  
  


"Hey you, you're finally awake."


End file.
